


Tax-Evading Farmers

by zenheim



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Best Friends, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenheim/pseuds/zenheim
Summary: The tags say it all. Lou and Zia are two queer introverts who don't want to work for the Joja Corporation anymore. Momiji Farms has been abandoned for decades, but anything is better than cubicle life. Lou is ready to fulfill her destiny embracing lumberjack lesbian stereotypes, while Zia is a smol goth who is concerned she might get tan.





	1. Prologue / 1. Crushed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Milieu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milieu/gifts).



# Prologue

Grandpa’s room was small and warm thanks to the fireplace. A picture of grandma sat proudly in the center underneath a hanging sword I’d never gotten a straight answer about. Now, I guessed I wouldn’t ever have the chance. Granpa’s voice sounded so much thinner than it used to. It hurt my heart to hear, but he was still talking, and I did my best to listen.

“...and for my very special granddaughter, I want you to have this sealed envelope.” I stepped forward and immediately slid my fingernail under the seal. The paper looked old already, and it was held closed with stamped purple wax. “-- No, no, don’t open it yet. Have patience,” he wheezed, taking a moment to catch his breath before waving me closer. “There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of modern life, and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my child, you’ll be ready for this gift. Now, let Grandpa rest.” He closed his eyes with a deep sigh, as if talking so much had left him winded.

The next time I came back to his house was after the funeral. It felt wrong to be in his room, knowing he wasn’t there, knowing he wouldn’t come back. I touched Grandma’s picture on the fireplace, and my eyes fell on the small green doll I’d played with as a kid. Grandpa had said it was supposed to be a forest spirit, but the felt doll looked more like a mis-colored soot sprite. It had little pieces of yarn with beads on the end for arms and legs, and when I rolled it between my fingers, it made a small clacking sound as they flailed together. It made me smile, and because it was genuine, my chest unclenched a little from grief. It had felt for days like I was never going to be able to smile again.

I tucked the little doll in my breast pocket as I left, wondering again what was in the letter.

# 1\. Crushed

The worst part about working for the Joja Corporation was how much of their interior decoration instructed employees to _smile_. It wasn’t enough for me to hear it from random strangers on the subway platform. Now the bland, grey cubicle walls were demanding bullshittery from me, too. I sighed and poked the forest spirit doll I hid in the drawer of my desk, watching the beads of its limbs roll around. Personal effects weren’t actually allowed at work, and everything else from my wallet to my cell phone was in a company locker behind the security desk. It vaguely reminded me of abusive employers confiscating employee passports, but I took time to be grateful my situation wasn’t so dire yet. Pushing the monitor to the side, I peered through the hole Zia and I had bored in our dividing wall.

“Pssst,” I hissed.

“Don’t psst me, check your email. I don’t believe this,” she whispered back. Our conversations were almost always drowned out by the sound of keyboards, printers, and even an archaic fax machine that steadily worked away in the corner.

I did as she said and froze. The most recent message was about a termination - our manager. “Why would they fire Jake?! He’s never done anything against company interest!”

“He told me earlier today that he was going to talk to upper management about our working conditions and really make it clear to them how unacceptable things were…” Zia trailed off.

I covered my mouth with one hand. “No way.” I hated myself for crying at work, but my shoulders shook silently as big, hot tears refused to stop pouring down my face. I’d been one of the people who put pressure on him to take a stand, and it had gotten him fired. I knew better than to think it was my fault, but the yawning sense of horror in my stomach wouldn’t go away.

Zia drew a smiley face on the pad of her finger and stuck it through the hole to wiggle it at me, which almost made me laugh. Rubbing my face, I thought back to when Joja had been a startup and Jake was my first boss, cranky and loveable. He’d had so much experience, his resume stretched out the door; none of us had ever considered him to have a vulnerable job. Knowing that hard work was no protection, that doing the right thing was a fireable offense made the sound of keyboards and printers echo louder in my head until I was on the verge of a panic attack. I had to fight to control my breathing, in through my nose and out through my mouth as slowly as I could.

“You doing alright over there?” Zia’s voice came quietly.

I nodded shakily before reversing course to shake my head. “No. I know this isn’t my fault, but that could have been me or you. Either one of us would have done the right thing and spoken up against the new hours and ‘security protocol.’ They’re dehumanizing us. It just makes me feel really unsafe in my job, knowing he’s gone. They don’t want people like us working at the company, not if we want to be treated like real people.” I could hear her sigh. There was nothing to respond with: it was true.

But this was also a moment when, finally, I knew what to do. The feeling had been creeping up on me for weeks, like the soul was slowly being drained out of me every time I clocked in for work. I know Zia felt the same way and that we both counted the hours until we were free again, even if we were too exhausted to properly enjoy time off. We were both too introverted to be good sales reps, and talking with people on the headset all day would have been mind-numbing if it weren’t so aggravating.

~

The green flashing “WORK” light set high in the wall rang like a bell, then stopped as the red “REST” light flickered to life. In the giant glass windows that overlooked the cubicle floor, the managers turned away and finally freed us from the Big Brother vibes they put out with their business suits and formal surveillance. I waited for Zia, discreetly grabbing the forest spirit doll out of my desk.

“Come outside with me,” I said, and she did a doubletake as she caught my mood.

“I thought you would still be bummed out about Jake?” she asked as we headed for the line to reclaim our backpacks and purses.

My face fell. “I am, but I’ve spent most of the day thinking about it, and I don’t think there’s a way we can help him right now. I have something I want to show you though,” I said, perking up again.

It was cold outside when we got through the line, a bitter last dig by winter to kill any flowers too eager for spring. The Joja Corporation building looked like a huge metal trap with its enormous HVAC system blasting and fluorescent lights shining out of rare windows.

I’d started carrying the letter around a few weeks back, when the feeling at work had really taken a turn for the worse. Even though I’d resisted opening it, scared it would be nothing but hopeful it wasn’t, it had felt good to have it close, like an escape rope. Zia knew what the letter was, and she raised her eyebrows as I turned it over.

“Hold me if it’s just a bunch of stupid nonsense advice?” I asked her, one hand ready to break the seal.

“Always,” she nodded seriously.

I broke the wax and opened it, pulling out two sheets of paper. The first was a handwritten letter.

_Dear Lou,_

_If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what really mattered most in life: real connections with other people and nature. So, I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: Momiji Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life._

_This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, my girl. Good luck._

_Love, Grandpa_

_PS- If Lewis is still alive, say hi to the old guy, will ya?_

The second piece of paper was thicker and more official looking, printed with the Stardew Valley seal at the top: the land deed, in my name. I marveled over it for a long moment, unable to believe that somewhere, out there, was a farm on a piece of land that belonged to _me_.

“Oh shit, I bet you owe back taxes on that,” Zia exclaimed.

I blinked, staring at her. “That’s your first reaction? Really? … Shit, you are definitely right.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, really trying not to let this rain on my parade. “So, how do you feel about becoming a tax-evading farmer with me?”

Zia’s eyes lit up, and I could barely believe the surprise in her smile. Like I would ever leave her behind.


	2. 2. Looks more like a lumbermill

The road hugged the side of the mountain foothills, positively green with spring. A wood fence served as a barrier railing, and we passed another distance marker for Stardew Valley. Outside the window, the traffic got thinner and thinner as we approached. A hiss and a pop from the bus marked the end of the trip, and the driver got out to help unload our bags from the side compartment. Waiting for us at the bus stop, though, was a woman with shoulder-length red hair pulled half back into a ponytail. She wore a tan worker’s jacket and scuffed up steel-toed boots. 

“Hey! Are you Lou and Zia?” she called out with a wide smile. 

“That’s us,” said Zia. 

“I’m Lou,” I chimed in, “Hans’ grandkid.” 

“Oh! I didn’t know him, but I’ve heard a lot about your grandpa from older residents. Mayor Lewis, the one who sent me to pick you up, mentioned him before. He’s still back at your farm, sprucing up a few last things,” Robin said, grabbing a bag as she headed for a footpath through the trees. Woodpeckers and squirrels ran out of our way, and Zia spotted the occasional frog in the grass, too. I was surprised not to be taking a car, but the bus station marked the last paved road in sight, and the spring weather was nice. I was excited, thinking about the spruced-up farm; it even made meeting strangers easier. 

We headed west from the bus station, following a foot path lined with wooden fences that kept the thickest of the vegetation from spilling in the way. I didn’t immediately recognize the farm when it came into view, but the grey-mustached man in suspenders waving at us indicated we’d arrived. He had light blue eyes and wore suspenders over a button down shirt and yellow tie. Although he was well-groomed, seriousness seemed like it wouldn’t suit his affable features. 

“Lou! It’s nice to meet you!” he was shouting even before we’d left the footpath, excitement written across his face. 

My face must not have been cooperating, since Robin gave me a nudge with a laugh. “Don’t worry. Just because it’s overgrown doesn’t mean there isn’t good soil underneath,” she reassured me.

The farm was a wreck. It was such a mess that if I hadn’t been  _ looking _ for a farm, I wouldn’t have known what I was looking at at all. Off to one side was a rundown little house facing a field of boulders, fallen branches, and overgrown grass. The wood floorboards of the porch had rotted out to collapse in some places, and the firewood pile was covered over with moss. Past that, a screen of pine trees hid the rest of the farm from view, barely affording a glimpse of maples and oaks skirting ponds beyond. 

Zia had my back and was making introductions in my stunned silence. “Nice to meet you. We’re idiots used to working in cubicles, so please don’t spare us any advice,” she half-joked. Robin chuckled, and the Mayor laughed uproariously. “Looks like this place was a lumbermill instead of a farm though.” I could tell it wasn’t supposed to be a joke, but Robin laughed harder. 

“Yeah, I guess it was silly to think grandpa would have been renting this place. If nobody’s been looking after it, it’s probably a miracle it’s still standing,” I said, sliding a bag off my shoulder as I looked around. 

“It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s… quite a big deal, really! We don’t get new residents very often, renters rarer than buyers, actually,” Mayor Lewis replied. “I think your new house is… rustic!” The pause didn’t quite sell his words. 

“Pfft, that’s one way to put it,” Robin snorted.

“Rude! Don’t listen to her. She just wants your business; she’s the town carpenter,” Lewis said indignantly before moving on. “In the clearing just through there, we’ve also used the town’s agricultural fund to build your farmhand a residence of their own as well! Hans’ place was always small to begin with, so we thought it would be better to give Z-Zia her own space,” he stammered over her name, clearly not sure if he’d gotten it right. 

“Ha! You’re my farmhand,” I turned, ready to lord it over her.

“Ha! My house has fewer holes than yours,” she shot back, waving finger guns at me. 

Robin snorted again; Lewis smiled. “What are both of your pronouns, by the way?” the Mayor asked.

“We both go by she/her,” I said.

“Thanks for asking,” added Zia. 

“We should leave you two to get settled in,” Robin reminded him, rocking back on her heels. 

I liked her and not just because she was giving us space. Both of them came of as really considerate, which made me wonder what the house had looked like before the Mayor had ‘spruced it up.’ “Thanks for showing us around! You said the town square was just east on the path we took to get here?”

“That’s right! You should introduce yourself to the other residents when you get a chance; they’re all very excited to meet you. Pierre’s is where you can get most farming supplies, and I come by early every morning to pick up goods from shipping boxes, like the one I put over by your house,” Lewis indicated a large, varnished wood chest with a hinge-top as he spoke. 

“And don’t forget to stop by my shop when you want to spruce up your house or add to your farm!” Robin winked as she waved. “There are some welcoming gifts for you in the tool shed attached to your house, too. We’ll see you around!”

“Come visit soon!” The Mayor waved. They were off down the path before we could get a word in edgewise.


End file.
